Closed Wound
by Andrea Weiling
Summary: After their first mission together, Kanda needs some patching up. And Allen's the only one to do it. KxA, if you squint. Oneshot.


Closed Wound

by anza (30.07.06)

A "D.Gray-man" fanfiction

Uncomfortable, he shifted. The other apologized in a murmur that doesn't quite reach his ears, but continued to peel away the shirt-turned-bandage, with a patience for Kanda's hissed curses that defied a saint's. The Japanese was doing it all for show; it hurt, and he cursed himself because of it, but at the same time he didn't quite blame Allen, either. The boy was silent except for a whispered question now and then - Kanda had no idea why he matched that whisper by lowering his own voice either, there's nobody around for miles, and if the other exorcist was worried about the building crashing down on them...he supposed it was a valid enough worry - but otherwise, all the Japanese got from him was the faint scent of milk and fresh cookies when he leaned over to pour a little more warm water on the wound.

Once the makeshift bandage was completely off, the swordsman waited with his features in a perpetual frown. The other exorcist worked silently behind him, dabbing away. When he closed his eyes, Allen's voice became muted, a soft flow of cadences that quieted his restlessness, just for a moment. He hated being useless and vulnerable like this. That he was now in the care of a newbie was galling - but he would have been more embarrassed to be taken care of if Allen had shown anything but the strength of his capabilities in battle earlier.

For that, he is awkwardly proud of the other. He wasn't sure where Allen got so strong, or so cheerful or milk-and-cookies scented, but against all prior assumptions he was awed by the strength he'd witnessed. And a little fearful, too. Just a little.

The slash stung, suddenly, and Allen moved into sight to clean the slash on his torso. It was a miracle it didn't cut anything vital - exorcism had its advantages, especially when it taught a person how to minimize damages - but still, Kanda expected to get worse out of the whole encounter. The silver-haired exorcist paused in his cleaning; so does the Japanese, feeling the burn and sting of the alchohol fade into cold numbness. "What," he intoned flatly, and Allen's blue eyes looked up, then back down. Hands moved - Kanda saw the wrinkled redness of his left hand, and looked away again, the frown on his face twisting into something a little more like _guilt_, though why he wasn't sure why - again, the silver hair fell straight in front of his eyes as he bent, good hand steadied on Kanda's good shoulder, the other cleaning.

The Japanese flushed under the scrutiny. His frown grew steadily darker, eyebrows furrowing something terrible, mouth downturning like an unhappy crescent moon. The wound tightened suddenly when the boy pressed a little too hard, and Kanda hissed an unnecessary, "Watch it!" before Allen slowly resumed dabbing. The blood was clotting well; Allen was halfway down his chest, just over his diaphram, where Kanda could see his own breath moving in, and out, in, and out. It takes one more painful incident until wearily, the other produced the spare bottle of gin Toma had scrounged up from somewhere, uncapped it, and wordlessly handed it to the Japanese. The swordsman, equally wordlessly, took it and wiped the mouth of it against the front of Allen's shirt, spilling a little to make a stain-shaped window where the Japanese could see the misty color of Allen's stomach, only a shade darker than his shirt.

He shifted again, uncomfortable, and drank. The wooden chair as rickety and hard below him, slippery too with the cooling water Allen washed his shoulder and torso with. The heated water had streamed down, rivulets of water that tightened his wounds something painful before pooling on the chair, soaking through his pants. They were ruined anyway. The other exorcist leaned forward, beginning to bandage the length from shoulder to rib. The blood began to seep through, but the boy kept at it until the blood didn't anymore, and Kanda felt distinctly relieved that his bandaging skills were better than his cleaning ones.

Just as he thought this, Allen leaned over his shoulder to see what the back looked like, and exhaled right next to Kanda's ear.

If it was anybody else than just a mere boy, the Japanese would have thought that was on purpose.

Certainly, the lust that rose up in that instant wasn't intentional on his part. Allen leaned back again, blue eyes following the white line of bandage, just the hint of a frown on his face, and Kanda knew it definitely wasn't on purpose. He never needed much in his life, just his sword and his pride and the cold facts of life - but as he watched the careful, pale spiders of Allen's hands unrolling the fabric slowly, pressing it to hold it down, then closing it with a careful knot, he realized perhaps there was a reason people wanted something to protect. They wanted a reason to believe life wasn't as cold as it was, that there was a reason to attach to physical things like other people -

Allen straightened with a smile. Cautious, the other exorcist was always cautious, and Kanda wondered why. He frowned at the particular line of thought THAT led him to, and looked away. When he looked back, the newbie was silently putting things away, hands capable, even the left one, the red one with the cross that looked painfully embedded in it. The line in his spine was defeated, discouraged somehow.

Kanda meant to speak first, but Allen beat him to it. "Thanks for saving me back there."

"I didn't do it for you." The clear, sure answer leapt to his throat, a burning affirmation of _I-don't-need-anyone-much-less-you_, "I just couldn't stand how pathetic you were. It would have been a shame to all the Black Order if we'd come back without the Innocence."

Scathing remarks. Yet Allen held still, firm, under the weight of all these criticisms. Only the eyes showed a little pain that faded immediately with the forgetfulness and fast-healing abilities that all children had. The reckless part of Kanda already deemed him 'worthy'. Worthy of what? Worthy of respect, worthy of grudging consideration, worthy of care. That was all in the very least - like everyone else, Kanda wondered if there wasn't someone out there made for him, made to _love him_ -

"Y - you...,"_ ah, so the boy **had** been shaken by that remark_, "you'll be alright getting into the room, right?" The Japanese blinked to see all the medical supplies were tucked away into the bag they came out of already, and the other exorcist was already leaving the room with a wan smile and averted eyes. Kanda remembered he had to say something, and it was another grudging thing that had to be physically torn out of him before he spat it out with all the softness he could muster (which usually wasn't much), because Allen was still a child, a strong one but still one who needed shelter and protection. The Japanese wasn't helping with any of that, especially not with his adjustment to Headquarters, but he figured maybe - maybe, if Allen turned out to be _really_ strong, strong like he was - he might make it just a little easier to fit in with the rest of the weirdoes there.

"I'll be fine," he growled a little less angrily, and with a little less vehemence. Allen was really hesitant, he realized; the boy paused just at the edge of the room, body half outside already, good hand gripping the door frame, covering half his face. When the Japanese replied, he leaned back into the room a little, the smile a little more tenatively real than last time, and then he was away in a whisk of pale hair and blue eyes and dark clothes that made him look more mature than he really was. It was only then that Kanda remembered what he was going to say.

"And Walker!" The footsteps paused in mid-step, it sounded like. "Thank you." Now he was pausing too. "For the bandaging." Strictly business, that's all it was.

There was a real smile in his voice this time, and the Japanese's stomach lurched something...joyful? dare he say happy? when the other replied, "You're welcome."

He stayed in the room just a moment more, feeling the content wash down him like sunlight. And then the coldness was back, the cold fact that living took survival, and survival took sacrifice - but in Allen's openness heart, he took faith.


End file.
